


Shiny! Or: The one where Janus flirts with hyperventilation and Remus fingerpaints on the fourth wall.

by Jasper01



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Blood and Injury, Bugs & Insects, Gen, Humor, Slice of Life, Spiders, Swearing, a character is impaled, cos Remus, disturbing imagery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-18 19:40:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28748601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jasper01/pseuds/Jasper01
Summary: Remus has dreams that follow him into reality. Janus has trousers that end up in the kitchen sink.There are butterflies, sequins, impaling, and tea.Is this angst? Crack? Fluff? No! It's CRANGSTUFF! As only Remus and Janus can provide!
Relationships: Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders & Deceit | Janus Sanders
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	Shiny! Or: The one where Janus flirts with hyperventilation and Remus fingerpaints on the fourth wall.

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm in the middle of a house move (urgent! important!) which is why I suddenly can write fic again, _apparently_. *glares at my scumbag brain*  
> Anyway, there was [Art](https://bipwip.tumblr.com/post/189960800951/i-do-not-post-a-lot-here-but-here-is-something), and I had an Idea, and then fic Happened.  
> (sorry)

He's having the butterfly dream again.

He knows Roman dreams of butterflies sometimes. Beautiful flashes of colour and movement in sunlit meadows. A breeze that makes wildflowers dance amongst long grass. White clouds scudding across a shimmering blue sky.

Patton too. Whirling fluttering colour under vivid green branches. Dappled sunlight patches on a forest floor with the smell of warm and growing and old everywhere. Giggling and tickles at the brush of a delicate wing.

Remus dreams differently. He dreams of glass and dust and careful script printed on white card. Rows and rows of ordered careful specimens. Beige and dark timber. Gorgeous colour and static patterns. Latin and common names. ( _vulgaris: Remus_ )  
He dreams of three feet of steel through his torso pinning him down while he screams in a neat frame in a thin drawer in a well lit corridor in a natural history museum in a city somewhere.  
_I am pretty! Oh so pretty! So pretty and witty and bright!_ in Thomas's warm baritone skips through his mind and he laughs until he gurgles through the blood filling his mouth.

The hand scrubbed across his nose comes away bloody, and that's bad. Blood in the nostrils equals blood in the lungs and there's a sucking sound from his chest as he struggles. (He's methodical. Logan would be so _proud_.)

He can never wake from these things when he wants to.

The pin is just off centre enough to bug (ha!) him. It missed his sternum, but broke several ribs going in. It's too large to wrap a hand around, and trying to pull it out only makes the suction in his chest cavity worse.  
His clothes are soaked through and there's a sizable puddle around him before his vision finally (fuckin _finally_ ) goes dark.

It's still dark when he opens his eyes again, but at least the darkness is on the outside not the inside of him this time. The bedding around him is sticky and wet; red smears gleaming black in the darkened room. Remus sits up gasping, and then grunts at the crunch from a rib going the wrong way.

He thinks this all calls for some tea.

One hand in front holding his rib cage together. The other hand detached and behind him to stop everything from falling out the back. His other other hand (don't think too hard about it) braces himself against the wall as he shuffles to the door. (He pulls himself together, which is as good a reason as any to have a snigger.)

By the time he reaches the door he's out of hands. That's okay. Narrative timing decrees that now is the moment for someone to dramatically fling open the door and discover his handsomely disheveled state. This is fanfic, so that is what happens.  
Except it's Dee. Aka Janus (named after Roman god of doorways and being able to look both ways simultaneously while crossing the street). Aka Janus (named after aforementioned Roman god if said Roman god were worried about eleven year olds making anus puns. Also middle school librarians.)

“Dee! Tea! Tea! Dee!”  
After expounding this work of poetic genius he realises he's flat on his back on the rug in the lounge room.

The rug is red. Well. It is _now_.

Dee (dear snakey Side that he is) brings tea in a mug with cicadas on the outside. (They used to have mugs with photos of spider rain printed all over them (including on the inside) but Patton Objected.)

“Dee! I'm a cupholder!” The mug fits perfectly in the hole in his chest. It's warm.

A weary sigh from somewhere, before “Take it out or you'll heal that way.”

Did anyone have old relatives who used to tell you not to pull faces because if the wind changed you'd then be stuck that way? Yeah. It's _that_ voice. (I personally responded by going everywhere with a sardonically cocked eyebrow, because that was the coolest expression I could imagine when I was nine and just in case the wind-face-change thing was true I wanted my badass eyebrow raise to be forever.)

“I could be a permanent mug cosy!” Dee seems less than enthused by this which, weird. 

“I will take the tea away.”  
  
This is the threat of a fate worse than death. Only the truly ruthless will consider removal of tea.

Remus wails like an ice floe crushing a trapped ship. And then he pouts and moves the mug to the rug. (the mug to the rug cos he was trapped like a bug!)

Dee sighs again. He must've said that out loud.

There's another sigh, although this one sounds more fond. He must've said that out loud too.

Or Janus can read his mind.

An exasperated sigh this time.

Holy shit. Can you read my mind?

“No.”

HOLY SHIT!1!!1!!

“No, you just said everything out loud.”

Oh. “Oh.”

“Shouldn't we just converse normally? I feel like that would be faster.”

“Prob'ly also easier for the readers to understand the dialogue cues too.”

“What?”

“What?”

“....Nevermind. I don't want to know.”

The hole in front fixes itself first, so then Remus flaps his hands against the floor like a beached dolphin. (Dolphin? Dolphin. Because dolphins, are Bastards.)

(ooh! Dolphin dolphin dolphin dolphin dolphin see how long it takes for it not to look like a word anymore fun!!!)

“Dee? Deeeeeeeee?”

A groan from nearby. Snakey is bitching something about “If you've quite finished poking at the fourth wall again.” but because Snakey can think more than one thunk at a time he also flips Remus onto his face.

Remus is very proud of the oozy **SPLORT** noise he makes as he rolls. He doesn't need to have the wound pointing up to mend it, but picking carpet lint out of his skin for the next two days is tedious.

Although...

“Hey Dee if I peeled myself and then regrew everything while lying on a shag rug I could be a yeti!” he epiphanies into the floor.

“So glad I've got that mental image now. Many thanks.”

“Or stripes! I could get a tiger rug and then be a fuckin tiger!!!”

“You do already have the whiskers.”

He DOES. Dee is so smart! And Logan was nattering on about human bio-luminosity and apparently humans have stripes so Remus has stripes and whiskers and shit _yes_ he's a fuckin tiger _already_.

Good job Remus.

Dee is chuckling from somewhere nearby. Oops. Looks like he was doing the dialoguing without the proper formatting. Again.

Don't te- oop “Don't tell Speak and Spell that I ate the “6” and “9” keys off his keyboard. He'll start ranting about audience suspension of disbelief again.”

“You would deserve it, but I am clearly more loyal than some classless snitch. Also: nice.”

Janus (pffft lol XD XD X'D) is scritching the back of his head. It's a nice feeling and Remus goes boneless under the attention.

Janus gives an appalled yell as Remus's skull disappears and reappears across the room in a pile along with the rest of his skeleton.

“oopsie.”

Janus is leaping around and trying to shake the sensation out of his hands. “I touched your brain Remus! I was touching your brain!!! There was squidging!!! Gah!”

He'd apologise, except his bottom jaw is currently leaning against the wall next to the power point.

Oooooooo. SEQUINS.

“oo o, f i-” Fuckit, he needs a skeleton for this.

He reacquires his bone density with a sound like a falling shipping container of xylophones and sits up. Janus still looks thoroughly wigged out at his accidental brain prodding.

“Would you rate that as better or worse than nails on a chalkboard?” Science needs to know.

Dee doesn't respond except to give a full body shudder and scratch his fingers along the seams of his trousers.

“Noted. Also. Sequins!”

Dee responds cautiously. “Sequins?”

“Sequins!!! What if I do the peel-place-heal thing except I faceplant into sequins?!? I'd be shiny! Like you!!!”

Dee stops wiggling. (Best quality? His ~~wiggles~~ ability to prioritise personal wellbeing in the face of societal expectations of self sacrifice. Fuck your meme expectations; Remus knows what's up.)

“Like me?” His face is a little blank.

“Yeah!”

“You'd want to look like me?”

“Yeah!!!”

“Oh.”

Dee looks a little lost, which is probably why he actually sits down when Remus pats the rug beside him.

He immediately gets up again and fills the kitchen sink with cold water.

“I _liked_ these trousers.”

Remus tracks his movement across the room, back and forwards and out and back with filthy trousers in hand and grotty trousers on body. (grotty =/= filthy. there is a Difference)

“Why'd'ya think I dun wanna look like you?”

Dee doesn't answer.

“Unless you're mad that someone else is tryna steal your look. Because I get that. Cool bio-hybridity going on? I'd call dibs on that for sure. Are you?”

“What?”

“Mad?”

“No.”

“Oh. Good.”

Silence except for the slosh from the sink as Janus drowns his trousers. Unpleasant (the silence, not the drowning).

“You wouldn't have to do the peel and stick routine to get sequins.”

“It's peel-place-heal and I'm going to put it on a motivational poster in the common room and see how long it takes Thomas to notice and freak out.”

“Of course.” Dee is smirking again which is Good and Important. “But that routine isn't necessary. Roman has spirit gum. You could glue them on and get them placed exactly how you like. Far more precise than hoping they heal in where you want.”

Dee is So Smart!

“Twas only a trifle my dear Duke.”

(shit! He forgot his dialogue formatting again. That's like three times in one fic!)

Roman is pissed when he can't find his spirit gum two days later (pfft like Remus would _ask_ ).

It's itchy as hell but his face looks really damn good, so. Worth it!

The selfie he manages to sneak is just the beeswax on the cake. It's him (of course) and Dee! (!!!) and he was Right and they do match fuckin _perfectly_.

**Author's Note:**

> me: would Remus put a sequin dick on his own face?  
> me: he _absolutely_ would, the mad bastard.


End file.
